When Anora opens, Sean Baker exposes his main character in the neon-drenched fantasy of a strip club: sparkling and smiling as she dances to a melody that is briskly cut short at the end of the opening credits. It sets the tone perfectly for Anora, portrayed by Mikey Madison, who will see her illusions fabricated and shattered over the course of the film.
Ani, as she likes to be called, works as a stripper in Brooklyn, where she meets Ivan, the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, who immediately takes a liking to her. It’s mutual, and after booking her for a 15,000-dollar-week in Vegas, Ani and Ivan get married. This marriage, he explains, would allow him to stay in the US and not go back to Russia. Ivan’s parents quickly learn about the marriage and get on a plane to the US to see it annulled immediately.
Before watching the movie, I have to admit that I was slightly wary of a male director tackling the topic of a relationship between a sex worker and one of her clients. On paper, it seems that the movie could veer into risky territory by romanticizing sex work or a potentially toxic relationship from a male perspective. These gripes and worries personally stem from how Yorgos Lanthimos handled sex work and female sexuality in his latest two releases (Poor Things and Kinds of Kindness). The risk in male directors tackling (female) sex work can essentially be boiled down to whether they will treat the topic with genuine respect for the women involved, or pass it off as sexual liberation being the exclusive lens of feminism. Anora being my first Sean Baker movie, I did not know what to expect when watching the trailers.
The politics of Anora are one intricately woven thematic tapestry. They are both the background and the focus, whilst never directly discussed. The movie in itself only showcases some extraordinary days in the life of a sex worker: whether you decide to take away its comedy, its romance or its commentary is up to you. It’s a snapshot of someone’s life – and that might be the best thing about it.
Interestingly, despite the posters and the trailers (as well as the fact that most of the cinema hall was filled with couples when I went to see it at Lumière last month), Anora is far from telling a love story between Ani and Ivan. The first half of the movie is glamorous and fast-paced: Ivan is spending tons of money on Ani, taking her to stay for a week in a Vegas suite with his friends, and taking her out to party every evening. Barely two weeks after meeting, he tells her he loves her and wants to marry her. He agrees to a request for a 3-carat diamond ring, suggests more carats even, and they rush off to a wedding chapel almost immediately. He then takes her back to his villa in New York.
It sounds too good to be true – because it is. Ivan’s money is his parents’, not his own. So is the villa. Ivan’s carefree personality is either grating or endearing depending on the viewer, but it’s obvious to all. When the groom learns that his parents are coming to the US to annul the marriage, he runs away without his bride, while Ani and his various bodyguards spend the day running through the streets of New York to find him. So much for true love in what the marketing team dubbed a ‘made in America love story’. Ivan is a petulant 21-year-old, Ani is a 23-year-old who’s had to mature quicker and take on more responsibilities. Ivan does not love Ani, and Ani mistakes the hope of a comfortable life for true love.
The second half of the movie, though filled with comedic scenes and banter within the unlikely alliance between Ani and Ivan’s three henchmen, takes on a completely different tone. The warmth of bright lights and the prospect of upward mobility have been replaced with freezing January walks in the streets of Brighton Beach. The American dream lingers in the background still, in constant hues of blue and red onscreen, but Ani loses her spark as the movie treads on. She clings to the possibility that this might turn out to be real after all, that it wasn’t pretense, only to be brutally let down when Ivan’s parents land in New York. From almost-romcom to tragicomedy, Sean Baker aptly navigates the many shades of life in working-class America.
There is yet hope, however, for those waiting to see a love story in Anora. Ani has found a family, care and affection in most of the other women working at the strip club. If you follow the very visually striking red thread in her scenes with Igor, one of the henchmen, you might see an unexpected bond develop after all.
Despite the movie’s straightforward plot, there is a myriad of topics weaved into the background of every character and their arc: sex work, sexual violence, social class and status, and relations between Russia, Armenia, and the US. The exploration of those themes only happens through the behaviour of the characters as a product of their environment. Keeping your eyes peeled and ears sharp for the characters’ reactions to events is crucial to fully enjoy the politics of the movie and understand the protagonists more. Otherwise, the characters are never properly introduced. We know very little about them – especially Ani herself. All we know is that she knows Russian because her grandmother never learned English, that she lives with her sister, and that her mother lives in Miami with her boyfriend. This has been criticised by some reviewers, who argued that Sean Baker ought to focus on his main character more.
On the contrary, I would argue that the mystery around Ani reinforces the credibility of her character. Just like with her clients, any personal information is given out on her terms. Ani only shows you what she has carefully curated for your experience with her – except when the camera catches her off-guard. We learn more about Ani through her reactions instead of her actions. In fact, much of the movie’s discourse on sex work takes shape in her reaction to events: the insecurity prevalent in the profession is highlighted by Ani’s hurt in the way others treat her. The façade cracks as the camera lingers on her face while characters refer to her as an escort, a prostitute, a “disgusting hooker”, a шлюха (a whore), before indignation takes over again. She wants to be seen as Ivan’s wife first and foremost, but she can never escape the stereotypes that others brand her with. The façade eventually comes crashing down in a masterful ending between Igor and Ani.
“Endings, to me, are the most important part of cinematic storytelling”, said Sean Baker in an interview with the LA Times, and he executes it perfectly there. So does Mikey Madison, whose performance throughout the whole movie must be praised for the way she brings life to Ani.
Comments